


Not in Particular Will by babs, JayEm

by babs



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babs/pseuds/babs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hostages are taken at the SGC-Daniel is in the thick of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not in Particular Will by babs, JayEm

Value dwells not in particular will;  
It holds his estimate and dignity  
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself  
As in the prizer.  
Shakespeare

  
There were times it still amazed him. That folks could step through the big stone ring and wind up light years away from Earth.

"Yeehaw," George Hammond said under his breath.

It wasn't often he got to come down to the Gate room for no reason other than to marvel at the Stargate. But there wasn't much activity at 0600 hours, not with five teams off-world and the remaining ones all tucked safely in their beds. And especially with SG-1 on Earth where he hoped they couldn't get into trouble.

Besides there would be plenty of activity later on when the Trinoran delegation  
came through the Stargate. Hammond looked down at his current uniform, fully aware he'd need to change into a more formal one before the delegation arrived at 1000.

Sergeant Siler was near the far wall inspecting the rows upon rows of silver and scarlet ribbons - the dominant colors of the Trinoran flag. The poor sergeant was never fond of "foreign matter" on his precious machinery. George didn't even want to consider what the man thought of the chevron shaped lights that were set to activate in sequence with the Trinoran anthem when the delegates stepped through the gate. The good sergeant was clearly deeply affronted by the attempt to turn his ultra-efficient gateroom into a "disco".

"Good morning, sir." Hammond turned at the sound of the voice. Daniel Jackson entered carrying a mug of coffee and a stack of file folders.

"Morning, Doctor Jackson." Hammond hid his smile as Daniel managed to juggle the folders and the coffee. He could see a candy bar wrapper sticking out of his jacket pocket. "You're here early."

Daniel shrugged. "Never went home. I was doing more research for the meetings with the Trinorans. If it's okay with you, sir, I'd like to go over the protocol with everyone who will be interacting with them."

"Colonel O'Neill will be attending, I presume?" Hammond asked, and he caught a brief smile crossing the younger man's lips.

"Will you make sure he stays awake?"

"I can do that, Doctor." Hammond nodded. He looked back at the stargate.

"You know, with everything I've seen, everywhere we've been, you'd think it wouldn't have the power to inspire awe." Daniel said, now standing next to him. "But I still wake up some mornings and think 'wow.'

Hammond smiled indulgently and nodded agreement, understanding perfectly. He'd experienced more than a few 'wow' moments himself in his years as commander of SGC, not the least of which was the miraculous resurrection of the bright-eyed young man beside him. Life, death, miracles and curses, all had come or gone through that gate at some time or other. While at times the stargate and all that came with it had hurt beyond reason, Daniel's death chief among those times, it never got old.

As the part of his brain not occupied in reminiscence sifted through their conversation, Hammond realized what Daniel had said and turned to face him.

"You didn't go home, son?" As hard as he tried to make his tone reproving, he realized it sounded more paternally concerned than anything else. He seemed to have that problem often where Daniel Jackson was concerned, something he tried not to think about too deeply.

Daniel shrugged apologetically; opening his mouth to say something Hammond was sure would make more sense as an excuse to the young man before him than the general himself. Work was one thing, working himself to a frazzle was something none of them had yet succeeded in keeping Daniel from doing. "I'm sor..."

The opening of the gateroom door provided Daniel with a timely distraction from the subject at hand.

"Jack!"

Hammond wasn't fooled by the sudden forced enthusiasm with which Daniel strode to his CO and friend. The young archaeologist wasn't going to get out of this that easily...

As he turned to greet the commander of his premiere team, something made his hackles rise. Something about O'Neill was -- off. For one thing he was still dressed in his street clothes and he was also staring around the room as if he'd never seen it before. Then George noticed the other man's right hand was still behind his back...

Daniel didn't seem to be aware of anything wrong, still approaching the other man and chattering on about the coming ceremony.

As O'Neill's hand moved into view, Hammond yelled a warning, knowing as he did so it was already too late. Just as it was too late for Daniel to alter his path as the gun in his friend's hand fired at him, point blank. A too familiar sensation of time slowing to a crawl almost overwhelmed George as Daniel stiffened with a soft "oomph" then crumpled slowly to the ground. For one awful moment, everything stood still then time resumed its normal order and years of training and command took over.

"Stand down, Colonel!" Hammond barked the order even as he took two steps towards a fallen Daniel.

O'Neill turned the gun on Daniel again, "One step closer and he's dead."

From the corner of his eye, Hammond could see Siler moving closer, a hammer in his hand.

"Drop it!" O'Neill screamed, pointing the gun at Daniel's head.

"Do as he says," Hammond ordered, nodding at Siler.

"Jack?" Daniel sounded confused. Even through visible pain, he was trying to push himself up. "Why?"

"Shut up!" The colonel waved his gun in the air, motioning for Siler and Hammond to shift closer together.

Siler moved, looking to Hammond as if he expected the general to have an answer.

"Let us help him. Help Daniel." Hammond tried to appeal to whatever part of the man he had always believed lived at the core of Jack O'Neill remained in this crazed man standing before them.

"Get this straight, old man. I'm the one in charge here. I call the shots." O'Neill smiled and Hammond was reminded of a nature show he'd once seen with a snarling wild dog standing over a carcass of an antelope. "There's no way out. The doors are locked."

"Son, I don't know what's going on, but we need to talk about this." Hammond said. He slid one foot forward. "But first let us help Doctor Jackson. He's your friend."

"He's the fucking one responsible for all of this!"

"What? Jack, please." Daniel spoke up and Hammond could see what the effort cost him. His face was bathed in sweat and he was unmistakably in severe pain. Hell, Hammond realized he didn't even know where the younger man was shot yet.

O'Neill hesitated a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "Okay. Okay. One of you over here. The other sits on the floor, hands on head."

"General Hammond," Siler said, looking to his CO.

"I'll go to Daniel," Hammond decided, motioning for Siler to sit on the floor.

"Yes, sir," Siler said, and obeyed the order.

Hammond risked a glance up towards the control room, noticing the blast window covering the glass. If this wasn't some alien virus taking over the base, he had the utmost confidence that his people were already on the job, trying to find out what was happening.

"General Hammond." Daniel looked up at him. His eyes were wide with shock and Hammond placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "What's going on?" The words were forced through gritted teeth.

"I'm not sure, son, but we're sure as hell gonna figure it out." He slipped his hand from Daniel's shoulder to his neck, hunting for a pulse. It was as he feared; Daniel's heart racing as if the man had been running a long race, not to mention the skin beneath his fingers was hot and clammy.

"Shot," Daniel mumbled, and Hammond knew the younger man was going to lose his battle to stay awake. "Jack shot me." There was a sense of sadness and disbelief in the words. "Shot me." He drew in a shuddering breath before his eyes rolled back in his head.

Hammond was relieved that, for the moment, Daniel was unconscious. He could see a bullet hole in the man's jacket, the fabric coated with blood. Hammond pushed the jacket up and away from what he thought was the wound. The bullet had entered Daniel's side, the wound ugly. Hammond unbuttoned his shirt, wadding it into a ball and pressing it on the still bleeding injury. He looked up at O'Neill. "I need Siler over here." When he was met with a stony glare. "I need to see if there's an exit wound and I need help. Don't add murder to the charges you're gonna be up against." When there was no answer, Hammond risked calling for Siler.

"Thank you," Hammond said as Siler was allowed to join him. "Let's turn him onto his side, Dave." Hammond spoke quietly. His heart sank as they rolled Daniel to his right side. There was no exit wound, and Hammond knew there was nothing they could do for Daniel now except to try and stem the flow of blood, make him comfortable, and try his damnedest to talk O'Neill out of whatever it was he planned to do.

* * *

He hated this place, these people. All he wanted was to do what he came here to do and make sure no one on Earth would ever again live under the threat of what lay beyond the Stargate. Jackson was the worst of them. If not for the dweebish scientist and his freakish language skills, no one would ever have gone through that damnable stargate only to die on another planet far from home. No one would ever have gone there. No one would have...

It didn't matter. No one ever would again. They would pay, all of them. All he had to do was hold the gate for a few hours, keep others outside and the three on the floor inside. The doors were jammed and he had hostages. They couldn't gas him out, shoot him out, or blow him out without risking Jackson, Hammond or sergeant whoever he was.

Jackson had screwed up his plan to just lay low and sneak in at the last minute, but there was a certain irony in it all, and a definite satisfaction in how things had worked out. Jackson was important, almost as important as Hammond, and he was also the man who was to blame far and above even *them*.

Not that any of them would get out of this room alive in the end, but they would serve a purpose while he needed them. Then they would all die. Together.

It was all just a matter of time.

* * *

  
This is so whacked, Siler thought, realizing his teen nephew's current favorite phrase was uniquely suited to this situation. Doctor Jackson was lying on the floor bleeding, shot by a man everyone considered the archaeologist's best friend, not to mention his commanding officer on SG-1. Nothing got more whacked than that.

Sometimes it didn't pay a guy to come in early to work, even as a favor to a general.

Siler had seen a lot of battle wounds during his many years in service and he knew Doctor Jackson's was bad. Real bad. Even if Fraiser were standing right beside them and ready to operate, it would be bad.

What the hell had gotten into the colonel? And where the hell were the control room guys? Sure there weren't any teams due until later, but someone ought to be up there running diagnostics or making coffee...something, anything... even if it was oh-dark-thirty

Geez, Hammond was a cool customer under pressure; everybody knew how he felt about Doctor Jackson and O'Neill for that matter. Doctor Jackson was a man Hammond treated like a son and respected as much as, or more than, any soldier under his command. O'Neill was his 2IC, for Pete's sake, one officer didn't trust another any more than that.

Siler knew this had to be killing the old man, but no one would ever know it to look at him. Sitting on the floor in his undershirt, with his dress shirt wadded up, holding pressure on Doctor Jackson's wound, Hammond was coolly scoping out the stranger in sheep's clothing who had just shot his supposed best friend. The only good thing was that Doctor Jackson had passed out. Siler wasn't sure which had hurt the man more, the bullet or the man who had fired it.

Maybe the guy would let him at least get the first aid kit, and maybe...

Rising to his feet, slowly, Siler pointed at the small white box with its red cross hanging on the wall. The colonel sneered, but nodded permission. Siler eased his way to the wall, not making any sudden moves, then unclipped the box from its holder. He fumbled the box, almost dropping it, and smiled a nervous apology to the man with the gun. Using the wall to help him stand, he brushed a thumb over the intercom button, locking it in the open position as he pushed off the wall and went back to the others. As he unpacked bandages, he caught the general's attention and nodded toward the console. Hammond scarcely nodded, and then set to work. The last thing they needed was for the colonel to notice what Siler had done.

Now if only someone would hear what was going on beneath their noses and send help.

* * *

"Morning, sir." The guard on duty gave him a smile.

"You see Doctor Jackson this morning?" He took a sip from his coffee cup.

"No, sir. He never signed out last night."

Sighing as he made his way to the elevator, he thought about how much this diplomatic mission meant to the archaeologist. He wasn't surprised Daniel hadn't left. Last he saw him, Daniel was busy going over the plans for the decorations of the Gateroom with Sergeant Siler and had a stack of folders full of protocol to hand out to anyone who might possibly come in contact with the Trinorans.

He got off on the briefing room level to controlled chaos. His heart gave a little flutter before his mind kicked into gear.

"Sir," Davis called out to him. "Major Carter is already here. They let us know you were on your way when you came in topside." What could possibly be happening this early in the morning?

"What's going on?" He followed Davis into the control room, noticing Carter at the computers and a team of medics working on two technicians.

"All systems went off-line ten minutes ago. Airman Connor and Westin were knocked out when I got here." Davis explained in a calm voice. "The blast shields are down. We have no camera feed to the gateroom."

"Anyone down there? Any sign of gate activity?"

"We don't know if anyone is in there, but there's been no indication of gate activation, sir." Carter answered him. "I'm working on overriding the computer to get us a view."

"Keep on it." He settled into a chair next to Davis. "Intercom?"

Davis pointed to a button, his fingers hovering over it.

"Okay, people, I need quiet." He ordered and everyone froze. He believed if he had told them to hold their breaths they would have. He nodded to Davis and the technician flicked the switch.

"Let Doctor Jackson go. He needs medical attention. Siler and I will stay." Hammond's voice came through loud and clear. "Jack, don't do this. I swear to you, son, we will get you the help you need."

At his signal, the intercom switch was toggled off.

"Sir?" Carter was staring at him, totally confused. He knew how she felt right down to the sickening realization that General Hammond, Siler, and Daniel were being held hostage.

"I want those windows clear."

"Yes, sir. Give me a min..." Carter pushed a few more buttons and the blast shields disappeared.

"Damn," Davis muttered under his breath next to him.

"What the hell..." he looked down into the Gateroom, seeing Hammond on the floor next to an obviously wounded Daniel with Siler kneeling nearby. The gunman looked up at the windows, and Jack could see Hammond following his gaze.

"Colonel O'Neill?" He saw the general mouth.

Jack held up his hand in acknowledgement. Now he needed to know who the hell was down there with them and why the hell was whoever that was wearing Jack's face?

* * *

  
A groan from Daniel drew Hammond's attention back to the injured civilian. His eyes were open again and he blinked up at Hammond, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. "Shot? Jack?"

"Yes, you were shot." Hammond said. He'd learned long ago facing things head-on was the best way to deal with them. He smiled in reassurance. "But we're getting you help, Daniel. Doctor Fraiser will soon have you in her clutches."

"Jack?"

Damn but the boy had a one-track mind. He looked up at their captor who was watching them with an expression of barely disguised hatred before turning back to Daniel. "No, son. It wasn't Jack." He saw the brief startle reaction from the man--not enough to throw him off-guard, but enough to cause the man to look up to the Control Room.

The real O'Neill waved shortly to the man. His voice came over the intercom. "I don't know who you are, but I know you sure aren't me. So how about you let the hostages go then you and I will have a little chat?"

Hammond saw Daniel's eyes widen in surprise at Jack's voice. "Knew it..." he whispered as a small smile came to his lips. Then his features tightened in pain once more.

"Siler, get those file folders and prop his legs up on them." Hammond ordered. "Daniel? Dave and I are going to take good care of you." He patted Daniel's shoulder, alarmed at the blood he left behind on the jacket. They needed a plan to try to overpower the gunman but right now, Doctor Jackson needed all their attention. He was going to have to place his trust in Jack O'Neill and the others to get them out of the mess they were in.

* * *

  
Signaling below the window, Jack told Carter to shut the intercom off.

"Get Fraiser up here, now!" Jack grumbled to no one in particular. Daniel was down. Right there in the gate room, for crying out loud, a place where he should have been safe. And the bastard with the gun was wearing Jack's face. "How, Carter?"

"I don't know, sir. It could be the shape-altering devices or some other alien technology. Sergeant Davis is setting up to run a thermal scan, we'll see what comes up, or if he's even human."

Jack nodded, but he knew that even if the 'person' looking up at him now with such unholy glee was human, the odds were he was as inhuman an enemy as any they had faced on the other side of the gate.

Turning to Major Wood, Jack muttered, "Get the front desk on the line. Find out how this guy got in here and why they didn't catch on that I signed in twice. If I didn't, then get me the names of everyone that has signed into the mountain in the past twelve hours." The major nodded and rushed to the telephone on the wall as Jack turned back to Carter. "Get someone on the security tapes. See if we can backtrack this guy from the gateroom to whenever he got here. I want to know where he went and who he talked to."

Motioning for the intercom to be turned back on, Jack tried to steady his voice. "We need to know what you want. What will it take for you to at least let Doctor Jackson out of there for medical attention?"

The man laughed in derision. "What's the point in that? He's the one responsible for all of this! You think I give a damn whether he dies now or later?"

"Responsible for all of what?"

The gunman gestured wildly toward the Stargate. "That. That, that...abomination! He opened it. He put us all on the road to hell with that thing and the sooner it's gone the better off everyone will be!"

"So...you're here to kill Daniel?"

"No, no, no. That's just a bonus, don't you see? I have to shut down this thing forever. No one else is going to die because of it."

As the gunman started pacing, Jack saw Daniel watching in confusion. It might not really be Jack who was saying these things, but the face and the voice saying them had to be hurting Daniel. Jack knew, better than anyone, how Daniel took their losses to heart, especially in the earlier years, long before his own death and ascension. He didn't beat himself up over it so much, knowing, as they all did, that without the Stargate Earth would have long ago been destroyed or enslaved.

"Can we at least send in better medical supplies? Doctor Jackson won't be much good to you as a hostage if he dies there on the floor."

Snorting, the man started shaking his head to refuse when General Hammond stood and spoke quietly. "If he dies, you can bet your bottom dollar, I will order Colonel O'Neill to re-take this room no matter what the cost. Do we understand each other?"

Not that Jack had ever doubted how such a gentle man had reached the rank of general, but the soft, determined tone held a promise no man with sense was about to ignore. It just remained to be seen whether or not this nutcase wearing his face had enough sense to recognize death when it spoke to him with the voice of an elderly Texas grandfather.

* * *

Ah, so there was a chink in the armor after all, Hammond thought as the imposter O'Neill hesitated at his words. Hammond stood his ground.

"No, no, no. I can't let anyone else in here," the man said. "I have to stop them from coming through."

"I give you my word, and Colonel O'Neill gives his, that there will be no tricks. Let us give Doctor Jackson medical help," Hammond said. Much as he wanted to get Daniel the hell out of the Gateroom and into medical care, the situation was too precarious at the moment to risk any deceit.

"You don't get it, old man!" Hammond didn't move as the man yelled. "I don't care if he dies."

"He dies and you have no bargaining chips left."

The man motioned for Hammond to resume his position by Daniel's side, but Hammond remained standing. He refused to yield to this man's orders.

"General?" Daniel called, his voice weak.

But he would get down on the ground for Doctor Jackson. He knelt by Daniel's side.

"Wh...wh...why is Jack doing this?" Confused blue eyes looked at him and Hammond tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible although the sight of Daniel's pasty complexion and breathlessness had him scared more than he'd been in a long time.

"It's not Jack, son," Hammond said. He placed his hand over Daniel's wrist, feeling the racing pulse, faster now than before.

"Cold," Daniel whispered. "Is it snowing?"

"Let's get the other emergency blanket on him, Dave." Hammond said. He forced a smile to his face as Daniel continued to watch him. "We'll have you warmed up in a jiffy."

Daniel nodded and Hammond looked away for a brief moment to see Doctors Warner and Fraiser in the control room with O'Neill. They were talking rapidly although he had no idea what they were saying. He bowed his head and said a brief prayer for their captor to allow one of the doctors to enter the Gateroom.

"No," The man said. "No one else in here. I'll let you all go, once I get rid of those bastard killers. We just have to wait."

"Killers?" Siler asked next to Hammond.

"The Trinorans." The man took a step away, his gun swinging back to point at Daniel's head when Siler moved towards his toolbox. "Don't think of it. I'm an excellent shot." His low words were enough of a threat to make Siler resume his position by Daniel's side.

"The Trinoran delegation," Hammond repeated, hoping someone up in the control room was listening. "You want to kill the Trinoran delegation."

"They deserve to die!" The man shouted. "They killed my team!"

"Jenkins," Daniel whispered. Hammond leaned closer to hear the fading words. "Kevin."

"Captain Jenkins?" Hammond asked, knowing Daniel had been right when the man turned his head at his name. This was not good at all, Hammond thought. He knew Jenkins' recent history--he hoped Mackenzie was available because he was now absolutely certain they were dealing with a madman.

* * *

"Get Mackenzie down here. Now!" Jack ordered. This fucked up situation had just grown even more fucked. They all knew what had happened to Jenkins' team...and what it had done to the young captain in command.

It was all a stupid misunderstanding, one the Trinorans had repeatedly and abjectly apologized for. It was hardly unusual for a people to panic when the stone ring they thought a mere monument to the past suddenly sprang to life and ejected living beings. Sometimes they just ran and sometimes, like with the Trinorans, they shot first and asked questions later. Captain Jenkins had been the only survivor, punching in the glyphs and dragging his people to the event horizon as fast as his own injuries would allow. The man had come through alternately sobbing and demanding retribution.

Hammond had sent a MALP through and, with Daniel's help, communicated with the Trinoran leaders who expressed abject horror at the actions of their own people. But they had also told a slightly different story than that told by Jenkins. The Trinorans had fired the first shot, yes, but it had been a warning shot only. They claimed that the first casualty had been on their side, but understood that the situation had escalated out of panic and fear.

In the end, Hammond had chosen to continue negotiations and Jenkins had freaked out, loudly and messily, in his debrief. Jack hadn't been present, but Hammond had filled him in later. Jenkins had damned the entire program, from Walter the gate tech right down the line to Daniel for opening it. His outburst had resulted in Jenkins being put on administrative leave along with as many mandatory sessions with Mackenzie as the psychiatrist deemed necessary before Hammond would even consider letting him back on the base.

'Looks like Jenkins found another way...' Jack thought bitterly.

They all expected threats from outside sources: the NID, aliens, the Goa'uld. This one came from one of their own and that was so not cool in Jack's book. The fact that the man had stolen Jack's face to betray them was even worse. That he'd shot Daniel was unforgivable enough, that he'd done so while appearing to be Jack had earned him the top spot on Jack's 'People I'd Most Like to Dismember' list.

At least Daniel knew the truth. Appearances to the contrary, he had not been shot by his best friend and, though no one knew it but them, the man Daniel trusted more than anyone in the universe...his lover.

Looking down on the tableau of madness below him, Jack sighed. At this point, the truth was very cold comfort.

* * *

Daniel wished he could see Jack. The real Jack. His Jack. Unfortunately, Hammond and Siler resisted his every attempt to turn himself around to where he could, at least, see the observation windows. It wasn't like he could see anything clearly anyway. Where had his glasses disappeared to? But it would help him just to see that shock of silvered hair he treasured so much, even if that was all he could see. Anything to erase the image of the cold-faced bastard who had fired a gun at him without so much as blinking Jack's usually warm brown eyes. And why was it that he could remember every detail of that?

God, he wished he'd gone home last night like Jack wanted. They'd probably still be in bed, snuggled deep in the warmth of their bed and each other. He wouldn't be here. Jack wouldn't have come in early, probably with a sack full of Starbuck's coffee, too, dammit.

"Ouch..."

"Lie still, Daniel."

'Moving bad. Got that, General, sir. Thanks for reminding me. "Daniel"? How about that...'

Hammond was great, he really was. Daniel wondered if he'd ever told the man how much he admired the unique blend of strength and gentleness that defined him so completely. One of the best, was General Hammond.

'God, I'm losing it a little here...'

His gaze roamed over the tense face of Siler, looming over him with one hand applying pressure to the wad of bandages that seemed to be soaking through with red at what surely must be an alarming rate, and the other hand patting absently on Daniel's knee in what was most likely was intended to be a comforting gesture.

'Needs work, Sparky, but thanks...' Daniel mused, almost laughing at how easily Jack's nickname for the tech sergeant came to his mind. 'Spending way too much time with Jack O'Neill...' he mused, not regretting one moment of that time. He only hoped they would have much, much more time. He needed more, wanted...

"Jack?"

"Shut up," It was Jenkins, Daniel knew it now, despite it being Jack's voice, despite it being Jack's body the man was wearing.

"You're not him." Daniel whispered. It was too hard to talk any louder, took too much effort. "Jenkins, you d-d-don't have to do this."

A familiar face filled his vision and Daniel looked up into cold brown eyes, wondering how he'd ever thought this man was Jack. As he watched, the features dissolved and a sandy-haired, hazel eyed face took the place of Jack's.

"Kevin," Daniel said. He tried to reach out, to touch the captain's leg. If he could just talk to him, make him understand.

"This is your fault, Jackson. The deaths of my team are on your hands," Jenkins said, nearly spitting with his hatred. "And when the Trinorans come, they're dead too."

"Colonel O'Neill won't open the iris," Hammond said, before Daniel could form a thought.

"Then I guess it's splat for them, huh?" Jenkins asked.

"Gen..." Speaking took too much effort, and Daniel closed his mouth. He was so cold. The general seemed to understand and Daniel felt his hand being rubbed between two warmer ones. There was something he needed to tell the general, if only he could remember what it was. Maybe if he closed his eyes, it would help him, let him think, make him warmer.

* * *

Hammond closed his eyes in a brief prayer of thanks when he saw that Daniel had lost consciousness again.

"How's the bleeding, Dave?"

"Slowing down, sir." Siler said. His glance flickered over to his tool box again and Hammond gave a small nod. Jenkins was insane and meanwhile the golden hour that Doctors Fraiser and Warner so often spoke about ticked away for Daniel. At least Daniel's pulse felt stronger than it had minutes ago. Hammond reached across Daniel's body, holding the bandages in place.

Siler rocked back on his heels and Jenkins brought up the gun to Daniel's head. As Hammond watched, Siler made a show of stretching his fingers, stretching them out, cracking the knuckles. He even gave a fairly convincing apologetic smile to Jenkins.

"Kevin," Doctor Mackenzie's voice came over the intercom, low and soothing, "we need to talk about this."

* * *

Dave lunged for his tool box as Jenkins' attention went towards the window when Mackenzie spoke. A hammer, a hammer was good, he thought as he closed his fingers around the familiar tool. It was up to him and Hammond to get Doctor Jackson out of here and, God knew, the archaeologist wasn't looking so hot. He hated to think of how much blood Daniel had lost, how pale he was.

He turned, keeping his body low, making himself less of a target. He'd aim for the knee, for the leg, anything to disable Jenkins and allow a rescue team in the room.

"I said no!" Jenkins screamed and there was a loud bang. Dave felt scorching heat along his arm and the hammer was no longer in his fingers. He stretched, trying to grab it again but it was kicked out of his reach and a boot made contact with his ribs.

"What did I tell you, Siler?"

Dave looked up from his position on the floor--how had he gotten to his knees?--into Jenkins' face.

"You try anything like that again, you're dead."

The metal of the gun barrel touched his temple, hot and burning.

"You understand?"

Dave nodded. He'd failed spectacularly and he feared the cost might be Doctor Jackson's life.

* * *

Jack felt his heart drop back out of his throat as Jenkins moved the gun away from Siler's head. The situation was still as FUBARed as it could get, but no one was dead yet.

Yet.

Daniel looked damn close though. He hadn't even stirred when Jenkins fired his weapon. Hammond's hands and clothes were bright red with blood, Daniel's blood, and Jack had never seen his commanding officer look as near to murder as he did right now.

Helpless. They were all helpless and at the mercy of a man who was clearly more than a few bricks short of a full load.

Grimacing at his poor joke, Jack sank back in his chair and swiped a hand across his face. Only a few minutes into this crisis and he was losing it. But it was Daniel down there, dammit. Their personal relationship notwithstanding, Jack knew he'd be just as concerned if it were any of his teammates or friends, but that knowledge really didn't help much.

Looking at the clock, Jack realized they'd have to do something soon. The delegation was coming through with no advance notice, no communication that would allow them a chance to warn them off. He couldn't let innocent people walk into an ambush, but...

Daniel, Hammond, and Siler were down there and there was no way in hell Jack could let them down.

What the hell was he going to do?

* * *

Hammond knew time was running short before the Trinorans arrived. It was running out, too, for Daniel. While they'd managed to slow the young man's bleeding, his ashen face and lack of response indicated he was either in a coma or nearly so.

He knew O'Neill was wracking his brain for a plan just like he and Siler were, but the man with the gun held all the cards. They needed a distraction, something, anything to refocus the man's attention for a few crucial seconds.

Dave Siler was unobtrusively looking around the massive room, searching for something, some inspiration that would save the man on the floor between them, but there was nothing. At least nothing he could get to before Jenkins made good on his earlier threat.

George hated being helpless, had hated it since he'd sat beside his father and watched him die, only able to mark the time and wait for the inevitable end. Looking down at Daniel's too white face, George swore this situation would not end the same way. They needed Daniel, more than the young man could ever understand, he was sure. Whatever they had to do, Daniel Jackson's final legacy would not be to die here on the floor in front of the Stargate he'd opened for them all.

It just wouldn't happen.

George looked up at the control room again. Jack stood as close to the window as possible, Major Carter was sitting beside Walter and gesturing at something. Mackenzie was talking to a nurse Hammond recognized but couldn't name while Fraiser and Teal'c had disappeared. He had the feeling they were waiting on the other side of the blast doors, Fraiser ready to follow the SFs into the room while Teal'c led the charge. He swallowed hard. Good people all of them, not the least of whom were the two men trapped with him. Jenkins was the loose cannon, the aberration, George reminded himself and by damn if he was going to let the man destroy any of those under his command.

* * *

How had things gotten so wrong? What the hell was he doing here? What had he done?

He looked up into the control room. Looked at the faces of all the people up there who had been his friends, people he'd worked with and admired since the day he had walked into the mountain and discovered a completely different reality than the one he'd always accepted. The world had gotten a lot bigger for him that day and he'd been excited at the possibilities.

That day seemed so long ago.

Mackenzie was all fidgety with the need to cure him or something. Sorry, Doc, he thought. Some things can't be fixed.

There was a nurse there, too. Rena. It was Rena from the infirmary. Always so kind, so nonjudgmental. He'd taken a liking to her a couple of months ago. His team had teased him mercilessly over it.

Major Carter and Sergeant Davis had their heads down, doing something with the computers. Two of a kind those two, more brains than sense like his mama always said.

O'Neill looked like he'd aged ten years over the past hour. Kevin honestly regretted having put that look there. Jackson was O'Neill's best friend, some said even more than a friend, but that was none of Kevin's business. He knew what it was to lose good friends too. Hurt like hell, like nothing else ever had.

Like nothing else...

* * *

  
"J...J..." Doctor Jackson's breath came out more sigh than sound.

Hammond leaned closer to him. Daniel looked past him, his gaze searching for someone. George had seen the look before, the look of someone dying, someone rallying to say goodbye.

"Doctor Jack...." Jenkins began before Hammond shook his head.

"Don't," he ordered. "Don't do this to him."

Jenkins hesitated, as if confused. "Don't...what?"

"He's dying," Siler said, sounding weary and hurting. "Don't make him face it alone."

George clasped Daniel's left hand tighter--the skin oh so very cold beneath his, fingers loose beneath his grip.

"It wasn't his fault," Hammond said, without looking at Jenkins. "The death of your team was not his fault. I'm sorry it happened, son. I truly am. But it wasn't his fault. And," Hammond paused, "it wasn't yours either."

Jenkins stared down at him and nodded. He activated the shape-changing device and suddenly became O'Neill again.

Hammond held up his other hand to Siler as Jenkins knelt on Daniel's other side.

"Hey, Daniel." It was Jack's voice, Jack's body. "You've got yourself in a fine mess."

Daniel said nothing, just stared at the appearance of his friend. "Sorry."

Jenkins/Jack shook his head. "No need. I'm the one...it's gonna be okay, Daniel. You're gonna be okay." He took Daniel's hand in his, a mirror of Hammond. "You're gonna be okay," he said again, his voice stronger.

There was a hitch in Daniel's breathing and Jenkins looked across at Hammond, his expression alarmed.

And then everything happened at once.

* * *

"Carter," Jack said, without taking his eyes off the scene playing out below.

"Almost have it, sir," her voice was clipped, as if she was holding herself together by a thin thread.

Jack nodded and then spoke into the radio. "Teal'c. In ten."

"I understand, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "We are awaiting MajorCarter's signal."

There was nothing to do now but wait. Siler sat on the floor, his face pale and his arm cradled against his chest, while Hammond remained next to Daniel. Jack could see Hammond talking to Jenkins. He wondered what they were saying but couldn't risk turning on the intercom, not when they were so close to finally freeing Jenkins' hostages.

Daniel. God, Daniel looked one step away from death and that was something Jack had no intention of experiencing again. Fraiser had left the control room with her mouth set in a grim line after sending orders to the infirmary. Jack knew Warner was already prepping for surgery.

Jenkins nodded and pressed a hidden control. Jack felt his stomach twist as the man appeared to turn into Jack. Jenkins knelt by Daniel and took his hand while Hammond watched.

"Five, four, three, two, one," Carter counted down and the blast doors moved inward.

Jack motioned for Walter to open the intercom as Teal'c and the others stormed the room.

"Hold your fire," Jack ordered. He didn't want dead hostages and Jenkins still hadn't moved from his place at Daniel's side. "Jenkins, it's over. Give yourself up."

"It's over, son," Hammond said. "Lay down your weapon. It's over, Kevin."

Teal'c raised his staff weapon, waiting and watching.

"I can't..." Jenkins said with a near sob. "You don't understand. They're all dead."

"Kevin," Mackenzie said. He'd moved into Carter's spot. "Kevin, we can talk about this."

Jenkins shook his head slowly. "It hurts so bad. My fault."

"No, it wasn't," Mackenzie said. "Kevin, listen to..."

But it was too late. None of them could do more than watch as Jenkins brought the gun to his mouth and pulled the trigger. He fell forward across Daniel, nearly into Hammond's lap.

* * *

It was too noisy, too chaotic. There should have been a moment of silence, a second to mourn a man gone down the wrong road of guilt and recrimination but who, in the end, had regained his humanity enough to offer comfort to the man he'd shot.

With as much care as possible, George moved Kevin off Daniel, knowing it was too late for him. He was aware of Fraiser and her medics squeezing past Teal'c and his team to get to the injured. Daniel looked so pale, so still.

The only kindness he could think of in the whole situation was that Daniel had lost consciousness before Kevin had shot himself wearing O'Neill's face. Teal'c must have been thinking along the same lines because he bent over and removed the device from Kevin's chest, taking a moment to close the dead man's eyes with a somber air.

Fraiser was barking orders at breakneck speed. IVs were being inserted, pressure bandages applied, vitals being taken with an orchestration that can only come of hard-won experience. George was no expert but he recognized that the numbers being called out to Fraiser were all wrong. In a matter of minutes, the medical team had Daniel loaded on a gurney and were gone. Someone, George thought maybe Siler, had found a blanket to cover Kevin. That was good. Very good.

"Sir? I think you need to let the medics have a look at you, too."

It was Walter, his gentle voice full of the immensity of everything that had happened here today.

George started to shake his head. He was fine and there was so much that needed to be done.

"General?" Jack's voice and a hand was suddenly gripping his shoulder firmly. George began to realize he was probably in shock. "George?"

That made him look up into Jack's face. The man looked like hell, the ambivalence of wanting to be with Daniel but knowing his duty lay in this room written all over him. Someone handed him a towel and George finally looked down at himself, finally saw the blood all over his uniform, his hands. Red and brown stains that bespoke the life of a man George considered the next closest thing he had to a son on this planet. This was all wrong, Daniel had been so alive, so excited just a few short hours ago.

"The Trinorans..." They would be there any moment.

Jack nodded in understanding. "Go. I'll take care of things here. You can come back when you...clean up." There was a lot of meaning behind those two words. Clean up. But George knew there were some things that could not be washed away easily. Maybe not at all.

Walter was nudging him now, trying to lead him toward the door. Siler was just leaving, walking but with a medic applying pressure to the wound on his arm. George nodded. He should go. Check on ... things. Try to regain some semblance of authority. He couldn't imagine what was wrong with him. He'd seen injured men before; he'd been in far worse situations...

Jack leaned toward him, taking his other arm. "I'll take care of things, sir."

And he'd hate every moment of it, George was sure. Jack wanted to be somewhere else right now too. Needed to be. But maybe having something to do would make the waiting easier. Or as easy as waiting to find out if a friend was going to die could ever be.

George turned back suddenly, wanting to see if anything had been done for Kevin. The covered body was gone, thankfully. All that remained of the morning's tension was a pool of blood on the floor. The blood of two good men, one an innocent bystander whose only crime was his intelligence, and one a man so eaten away by guilt he could no longer live with himself.

Shaking his head at the shame of it all, George let Walter lead him into the corridor.

* * *

"Get a crew in here to clean this up ASAP," Jack ordered. "Carter, how long do we have until our visitors arrive?"

"Fifteen minutes, sir," she answered from the control room. Her voice trembled slightly but she kept it together.

God, Daniel had not looked good. The view from the control room had been bad enough, but seeing Daniel up close, at least as up close as he could get without interfering with Fraiser and her crew, and personal had driven home how very precarious the balance was between life and death. God, his skin had been the color of fresh fallen snow--not good. Oh so not good.

The file folders that Daniel had so carefully prepared for the briefing that would now never happen were being placed in a biohazard bag, spattered with blood and brain matter. Jack swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat.

"Sir."

He turned to see Walter standing on a patch of freshly cleaned floor and holding his Class A uniform.

"You have eight minutes to change, sir," Walter said. "General Hammond's office would be closest."

Jack took the uniform and nodded. He glanced around the Gateroom. Teal'c was helping one of Siler's crew move the flower arrangements into position by the Gate ramp. His job now was to play host and diplomat. If he was going to do Daniel and Hammond proud - and he was determined to do no less - he'd better get his ass in gear. He looked up at the control room, at Carter who gave him a grim smile and pointed to the uniform he held. He took the stairs two at a time to get to Hammond's office.

* * *

"We are indeed honored to make this alliance," Ginul of the Trinorans said as he bowed to Jack.

Jack bowed back, remembering in time to place his hands in a V at his forehead. "We are honored also," Jack said. He straightened then and held his hands out palms facing up.

Ginul placed his hands palm down on Jack's and then murmured what Jack recalled Daniel said would be a blessing. Ginul withdrew his hands and smiled. "Now we are friends, my world and yours. Henceforth we trade."

Jack nodded his agreement. And just like that, the formalities were over. The noise in the briefing room rose as the people in the room relaxed, Tau'ri and Trinoran alike.

Ginul accepted a small plate containing some cookies and then looked at Jack. "We are most disappointed that Daniel Jackson could not be here. We were looking forward to seeing him again, and also meeting your General Hammond."

"I apologize for their absence," Jack said. "But an emergency has demanded they be somewhere else."

"We understand," Ginul said with the air of one who was used to such interruptions in his schedule.

Jack schooled his features to remain calm. The treaty was signed. The Trinorans would be returning to their world in less than an hour. Everything had gone exactly as Daniel had predicted and prepared them for. For now, Jack had to continue to play nice despite his worry for his best friend and lover. With an effort drawn from reserves he knew were close to running out, Jack forced his attention back to Ginul who was describing a new power plant his people were building, knowing that for the next hour, his duty lay here.

* * *

It was quiet now.

Not like before when Fraiser and her team were swarming all over Daniel's bedside with tubes and vials and needles and, for a few frightening moments, a defibrillator.

One of the nurses had brought George a blanket and heavily sweetened hot coffee as he watched. He thought he remembered thanking her. Walter had slipped in with a fresh uniform and a quick update on the Trinoran meeting before slipping away again to be where he was needed most. Not before securing an equally quick update on Daniel's status, George noted. No doubt to pass on to O'Neill. He had to remember to check if the man was coming up for promotion anytime soon... the place would fall apart without him.

As much as hadn't wanted to leave the proximity of the infirmary, where at least he could watch through the constantly swinging doorway into the operating theater to see Daniel, George had succumbed to the nurse's urging that he shower and change. He was sure it was no accident that the nurse had been standing in nearly the same spot when he came out as when he went in. Fraiser's staff was equal parts well trained and afraid of the diminutive doctor who demanded the personal touch when it came to dealing with patients. Not that he was a patient really. No one had given him more than a quick check up, tsking over his blood pressure and blood sugar but not alarmingly so.

After showering, he'd accepted the mug of warm broth and crackers the nurse had sent for with as much grace as possible. Food was the last thing on his mind, but as he had made his way up to the gallery overlooking the operating room, he found himself drinking it without even realizing he was doing so. He had to admit he'd felt better for it... until he'd reached the gallery and looked down upon the valiant fight for Daniel's life taking place below.

George was no expert, but he did have several decades of experience at reading people under his command. The tension in the room below him was almost a living thing. Doctors Warner and Fraiser were working in tandem, each seeming to read the other's mind. While he had no idea what it was they were doing, George was very much aware of the fact that they were doing it with a full and utter determination to save a life. George was sure they would have worked just as hard regardless of who was on that operating table, and perhaps it was his own emotions concerning Daniel Jackson he was projecting upon the medical staff, but it seemed as though everyone in the room below understood just how important Daniel was to the SGC, how much they would all lose if he died.

After what seemed a small eternity, Doctor Warner turned toward the surgical tray and dropped the small piece of metal into a dish. Fraiser stitched the wound, which seemed so small now the blood was cleaned away, and it was suddenly over. Units of blood and other fluids George could only guess at were hung and Daniel was being wheeled away to recovery. Sitting back, George closed his eyes, thinking to compose himself before speaking to the doctors.

A touch on his shoulder brought him back to reality and, as he looked into Janet Fraiser's kind brown eyes, he realized he'd drifted off to sleep. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was now early evening. The surgery had lasted several hours.

"Quite a day you've had, General."

George nodded wearily. "Not one I care to repeat, believe me. Doctor Jackson?"

"It was touch and go, more than once. He's critical, but barring any complications he should recover in time."

George sighed deeply. It was a short but very sweet report. Maybe she sensed that he needed it that way right now. He was sure there was far more to the story of saving Daniel than two simple sentences could cover, but those details could wait.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

"The Trinorans are preparing to gate home, but Walter has taken word up to him and he'll be here as soon as they've gone."

George nodded, pleased at this confirmation of just how good his people were. He still had some difficult work ahead, not the least of which would be a letter to Kevin's family, but with support like this... those jobs would be, at least a little, less painful.

* * *

He still looked like death warmed over... but at the same time he'd never looked better. In all the times Jack had seen Daniel in this bed or one just like it, he had never seemed so... pale.

Maybe it was because all those other times, well most of them anyway, he and Daniel hadn't been lovers. While there had always been many levels of friendship and connection, becoming lovers had added something more essential; something down deep in Jack's soul that would die along with Daniel if the worst should ever happen.

The past few hours had been some of the most difficult of Jack's life. From the moment the blast shields had risen and he'd seen Daniel lying in a pool of his own blood, blood barely held back by General Hammond's strong hands, Jack had felt hopeless in a way he rarely had in his life. Throughout the day, a part of him had flashed back to seeing Charlie in a similar pool of blood, his life slipping away before Jack could do anything to stop it...

Jack shook his head, trying to shake off both images. Daniel was here. Now. Alive. According to Fraiser, he was responding well and there was no reason to think he wouldn't recover fully. No reason to keep watching him breathe. No reason not to go home and get a good night's sleep.

But he couldn't leave. Not until Daniel opened his eyes. Not until Jack saw for himself that his lover was awake, aware, and working on all cylinders. Not to mention Jack wanted to be sure Daniel didn't...

"Do you think he'll blame himself?"

Jack almost jumped out of his skin, only just remembering the injured man in the bed and how much it would tarnish his reputation if he screamed like a girl in the middle of a military base.

Clearing his throat, Jack managed to squeak out, "Sir?"

Hammond's enigmatic smile told Jack the older man was tickled to have got one over on him, but he'd never tell Jack that. The general moved to Daniel's bedside, one hand reaching out to lightly brush the sleeping man's arm.

"Kevin said some pretty harsh things to him down there."

"Yes, sir." Jack had heard a few of them from the control room, the rest he'd heard from Siler at the informal debrief they'd held in the men's room about two hours ago. Good man, Siler. Even though he had been shot himself, he refused to leave the base until Daniel was declared out of the woods. Fraiser had sent the man home with a load of antibiotics as soon as she delivered the guardedly good news. "You know Daniel, he wouldn't *be* Daniel if he didn't assume guilt... however misguided it might be. It'll be up to us to remind him of all the good things that have happened because of the gate."

The general nodded, his gaze fixed on Daniel. "We can do that." Finally turning to face Jack, Hammond sighed. "I've been in situations like that my entire adult life, Jack. Nearly five decades. But I've never felt as helpless as I did today."

Jack nodded, a gesture of understanding and agreement. Conversations like this were rare between him and George, he didn't want to trivialize it by making stupid comments.

"He was here all last night, did you know? He let it slip just before... well, just before. I was going to find a way to let you know... so you could impress upon him just how valuable he is around here. Too valuable to be taking risks with his health." George laughed, a breath of sound. "I guess no one could have predicted *this* risk. Next to the last twenty four hours or so, a few sleepless nights seem pretty trivial." George sat down heavily in the chair next to Jack's. "This should be the safest place in the world, Jack. Full of the best and the brightest. How did I miss a loose cannon like Kevin Jenkins?"

"Whoa there, sir. No one could have predicted Jenkins would go postal like that. This wasn't just some random blow up. He planned this ahead. He got the device from Area 52... we're still trying to figure out how. He set the controls in advance to lock down the gateroom. He shot Daniel..." Jack realized his voice was rising along with his blood pressure and made an effort to calm both. "He shot him in cold blood, with no provocation at all. Daniel was not a threat to him, he was unarmed and unaware. Jenkins meant to hurt him and he did."

George nodded as if he understood, but Jack wasn't sure he really did. George Hammond was a decent man, he still believed in the good. Maybe, just maybe, Kevin Jenkins was a misguided soul who took a wrong path... but he also took a gun and made a plan to kill one of the most essential people to the planet. And to him.

"If we'd only seen just how troubled Jenkins was, we could have prevented this.'

"There's no profit in 'ifs', George. You know that. It was Mackenzie's job to see something like this coming, if anyone could. He missed it, we all missed it. But that doesn't excuse what Jenkins did. He took the first step down that road, his fault or not, but he had the choice not to keep going down it any time. And maybe, in the end, he made that choice."

George nodded and bowed his head. It seemed to Jack as if his commanding officer was making peace with Kevin Jenkins' death. He hoped so. While George would probably never forget the man, Jack knew he had to clear his conscience or his effectiveness as a commander would be forever compromised.

A sigh and a soft moan from the bed brought them both to their feet. It was all Jack could do not to lean in and stroke Daniel's face; he settled instead for a firm hand on his lover's shoulder.

"Welcome back to the land of the living..." he said quietly, echoing a phrase he'd had too many occasions to repeat over the years.

Daniel was slow to wake, his eyes blinking heavily then slowly focusing on Jack's face with a slight smile. When he was sure Daniel was seeing clearly Jack shifted his eyes over his own shoulder, their signal to each other that they were not alone. Daniel glanced up at General Hammond and smiled again.

"How are you, sir?"

* * *

Wasn't that just typical?

Daniel had been shot, nearly died on the gateroom floor, spent hours in surgery, and even more hours unconscious... and his first words were an expression of concern for him. George couldn't help but be humbled.

"I'm fine, son." The use of Daniel's own favorite, and all too loaded, catch phrase was not accidental. "And you?"

Licking his lips and blinking heavily, Daniel seemed to be assessing his own condition. "Been better." There was a long pause. "Been worse too."

Jack smiled ruefully. "Beats being dead though, hunh?"

Daniel nodded slightly. "As near as I can recall..."

George laughed, as he was clearly meant to do. The Jack and Daniel show was about to go into full swing; their bantering exchanges were almost as legendary as the two men themselves. George was wise enough to understand people had their own means of coping with stress and grief. Some were more entertaining than others, though never less poignant.

"I think that's my cue to exit. Rest well, Doctor Jackson."

Daniel nodded again, eyes already heavy. "You too, sir."

As Jack resumed his seat at Daniel's bedside, clearly not going anywhere for a while, George was careful not to look back, not to see something he was not intended to see, not to know something he really didn't want to know. It was enough to know that Daniel was in good hands, that he wasn't alone, that he was as secure this night as it was possible to be.

This day was far from over, even though the clock had turned over 2400 hours some time ago. Parts of it might never be over. But George had to find comfort in the fact that, when all was said and done, the day had ended, if not well, then with as much grace as was possible. Sometimes that was all a man had a right to expect.

  



End file.
